


Ascent

by kakashikrazy256



Series: BobaDin [2]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/F, Gen, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, The Mandalorian (TV) Spoilers, and Din's reluctant Mand'alor adventures, din's mand'alor ways work well and it makes bo want to s c r e a m, fennec and boba are now ride or die best friends, follows Boba's taking of the Hutt Throne, ft. his royal guard Bo Koska and Axe, lots and lots of that lmao, summary excerpt is probably the last thing that will happen because this is kinda a slowish burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:37:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28399338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kakashikrazy256/pseuds/kakashikrazy256
Summary: “Do you really have to go?” Boba’s voice vibrates against Din’s neck.Din hums, reaching up to lightly trace the raised scars on Boba’s skin. “You know Bo-Katan is sitting in my ship, counting down the minutes.”“Frothing at the mouth the entire time, I bet.” Boba snorts at that, pressing closer. After a beat, he shoots his shot, speaking like he’s discussing the weather. “Maybe we should get hitched. Then surely you could spend the night.”Din falls out of the chair./The new ruler of the Hutt Cartel has a proposition for the new Mand’alor.
Relationships: Boba Fett & Fennec Shand, Din Djarin & Boba Fett, Din Djarin/Boba Fett
Series: BobaDin [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2080902
Comments: 108
Kudos: 841
Collections: Jedi Journals, Movies





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve decided to make this a multi-chapter story. Otherwise, I wouldn't be publishing this until next year because it’s ending up a lot longer than I thought it would. And a 10-15K one-shot might be hard for a lot of people to get through understandably, I hope this is fine :') 
> 
> This story follows the events of [Debt](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28150554) But it should be okay not to read the other if you wish. Just know they kinda make their first relationship move in that story. 
> 
> Enjoy :)

Boba did not expect to see Din again so soon.

It wasn’t like he had been keeping track of the days or anything. The last he’d seen of the _beroya_ had been back on the forgettable little industrial planet they had picked Kryze up from. Boba had dropped off Din, Dune, the Moff, Doctor, and the Terrible Two, practically herding the latter four off the ramp with his _gaderffii_. 

Dune had said they were headed to the nearest New Republic-controlled base with superiors that would know how to deal with their two prisoners. That had been Boba’s cue to wave his arm, and head on his separate way. He hadn’t exactly been in good standing the last he saw of the Rebel Alliance. And now that they are the victors that loom over half the damn galaxy...well, Boba’s got enough self-preservation to know he should steer clear of that mess for now. 

Their goodbye had been relatively succinct; Boba could practically feel Kryze’s impatient glare boring into the back of his neck. He stood in Din’s way at the hatch of the _Slave I_.

“So.” Boba said, doing his best to keep from shifting his weight from one leg to the other in a sudden bout of nerves. Din hadn’t even bothered, freely shuffling his boots while moving to rest his uninjured arm against a hip. 

“So,” Din said back, head tilted towards the ground as if the scuffs of dirty shoe prints were suddenly the most interesting thing in the galaxy, “I guess this is goodbye?” 

He had phrased it like a question, and somehow that made Boba hopeful enough to do something brave. 

“Doesn’t have to be.” Boba tentatively held out a hand for a shake and smiled when Din reached out to clasp it without even a full second of hesitation. “Said I’d find that _be’jetii_ whereabouts for you, didn’t I?” 

Din squeezed at his hand, and Boba wished that there hadn’t been two layers of gloves separating their bare skin.

“ _Vor entye_ , Boba. For everything. I don’t know how to repay you.” Hearing Din say his given name aloud for the first time...it made Boba’s breath catch somewhere between his throat and chest. He swallowed and spoke honestly.

“Just make sure this won’t be the last we all see of you.” Boba couldn’t think of anything else he could have wanted from the _beroya_ at that moment. “Whether that be for your _ad’ika_ …” _Or for me_ , he indulged himself with the thought. 

“I will see him again.” Din confirmed solemnly, chest puffing out. Then he seemed to soften as he squeezed Boba’s hand again with a tilt of his helmeted head. 

“And I...would like to see you again as well.” He sounded almost shy. “After I figure out this whole sword thing.” He gestured to the Darksaber still sitting comfortably at his hip. Boba thought it at least looked better there than anywhere near another Kryze or Vizsla. 

_He wants to see me again._ _Me._

_Me._

“Know that you will always be welcomed here with me, _ner vod_ .” Boba whispered, reaching his other hand up to hold the _beroya_ at the back of his neck, fingers trailing up until he finds just a wisp of curls.

They both took a collective breath, frozen in that moment. Just the two of them.

Boba pulled down on Din’s neck, and Din lowered his head with the movement.

Their _buy’cese_ touched gently, and Boba could feel Din’s hand tremble from where it’s still held tightly in Boba’s grip. They stayed close, matching each other’s echoing breaths through their modulators. 

“ _Ret'urcye mhi_ , Boba.” Din murmured, putting more pressure into the _mirshmure'cya_ and Boba returned it with the same fervor.

“ _Ret'urcye mhi,_ Din _.”_ Boba replied with a hum. 

They had pulled away when Fennec pointedly coughed as she walked past them back onto the ship. Din squeezed his hand once more before letting go and heading down the ramp. 

Boba watched the _beroya_ speak to Dune, then watched the little group head towards Kryze’s ship. 

He sensed Fennec’s steady presence beside him as they walked further and further away. 

“You really just let... _all that_ go on his merry way?” Fennec’s voice was light, and Boba rolled his eyes.

“I’m not his keeper.” He scoffed, turning to shut the hatch. “He’s got his own things to sort through right now.” They both watched the ramp pull in before the doors sealed shut.

“And after?” Fennec asked quietly after a moment of staring at the closed entrance. Boba had stood very still, feeling something in his chest tighten. _After_ .. _._

“And if he thinks we are worth coming back to after that...well, I wouldn’t object to it.” Boba swallowed hard and started for the cockpit. 

“Of course you wouldn’t.” She followed after him, and Boba could hear the grin in her voice without looking back. “Mando’s got you wrapped around his finger, and he doesn’t even know it.” 

Boba let out a laugh, sliding into his seat, “Oh really? Just like you, ain’t that right?” 

“Just like me. Except I know it.” He could see her grin now that she’s slid into the co-pilot chair beside him.

“You’re a cheeky one, _ner vod_. Almost wish I didn’t fish you out of the damn sand.” He shook his head fondly, reaching for the controls. Having someone to genuinely banter with and rib at...it’s been a long time for Boba.

“You don’t mean that.” She snorted with good nature, pulling her seatbelt on.

“Quiet before I just might.” He laughed again, fiddling with the navigation system. It had been a good choice, to save her back on Tatooine. She rolled her eyes, reaching over to lightly punch him on the pauldron. 

“Where we headed, boss?” 

“The Doran system.” He sobered quickly, pulling off his _buy’ce_ to squint at the holomap before him. 

“Hutt Space?” 

“Now that we’ve lost the distractions, I think it’s time we’ve made a dent in this.” He rubbed at his chin, ideas beginning to form.

“Sounds like a plan. Think they cut some corners on a few of my old deals with them. Damn slugs have had it coming for a _long_ time.” Fennec growled, leaning back in her seat.

“It won’t just be the Hutts.” Boba frowned, “the power vacuum left by Jabba only brought out more vermin from their hiding holes.” 

“Good, I’ve been going out of practice lately.” Fennec cracked her knuckles, and Boba couldn’t help but grin.

“Then let’s get to it, shall we?”

“Let’s.”

* * *

For the next month, Boba’s mind was fully occupied with strategies. It wasn’t as simple as storming Jabba’s old palace back on Tatooine. Taking a dusty building occupied by useless _hut’uune_ would mean nothing if Boba doesn’t plan his takeover with the precision it required. He had to make sure no one would come to the defense of whoever currently sat on the Hutt Throne. He had to make sure no one would have the power to come challenge his claim. Because losing the throne before he’d even have the chance to warm the seat would be terribly embarrassing. 

Many nights were spent up in the small kitchenette, the room filled with the smell of cheap caf as the two poured over datapads and holomaps. An old holotransmitter sat on the table, rigged to listen in on radio chatter across their targeted syndicates. 

Some required a fight. With just the two of them, those assaults had to be planned down to their very last blaster shot. Stolen blueprints helped bring the element of stealth, and Fennec was the most skilled assassin in the parsec. They had several smaller territories yield within the first week. 

Others required some negotiations and quick talking. Handling these organizations this way saved them on both arsenal and unnecessary risks. Not exactly Boba’s favorite thing in the galaxy, but he’s managed to handle a few situations over the years with a quick word or two. Sometimes, the smarmy words would remind him of that damn smuggler, and it would take everything to stop himself from gagging audibly in the middle of some high-stake back and forth quipping. 

Some only needed to hear that Boba Fett was back to scramble their way into his comlink queue, begging for his mercy or possible partnership. It’s nice to know his name still had some weight in these circles, though the constant groveling in his ears was not welcomed, and often left him with headaches. 

Finally, after a month of fighting, talking, bluffing, and some very close calls, they have enough ground to make their claim over the Hutt throne a legitimate and defendable one.

All that’s left now, is to take Tatooine.

* * *

“A wupiupi for your thoughts?” Boba winces as Fennec slaps a bacta patch over a cut near his shoulder. They had honestly gotten out of this hell month fairly easy with only light wounds. 

“Wupiupi? In this economy?” Fennec pokes the patch with a laugh, earning a ‘ _watch it!_ ’, “as if you can afford even a single thought with that.” 

“ _Shebs’palo一_ hEY!" His muttered curse is abruptly cut off by her flicking his ear. 

“I’ve heard you say that enough times under your breath while talking to that Gungan last week to know, _that_ shit isn’t nice.” She saunters past him with a smirk, putting the medical box back in the supply cabinet, locking it shut. Boba scowls, rubbing at the patch gingerly. At this rate, Fennec will end up with every Mando’a curse under her belt. 

“You’ve been quiet, just wanted to know what’s on your mind.” And Boba truly is curious. He had known Fennec Shand to be a notorious assassin for hire in his bounty hunting days. The woman he found in the desert held the same danger, even more so in her half-dead state. She had been wary, panicked, and delirious from blood-loss, yet had still managed to nick Boba with a concealed knife before collapsing again. She had also been very afraid. After he had fixed her wounds, and slowly nursed her back to health, he noticed the subtle change. Fennec had always been one for a few words. But the words she did use are as sharp as her blades, used only to manipulate things in her favor. 

Over time, their year of travel had mellowed her shell, but never dulled her poison. She smiles easily and speaks freely now, eyes able to spark with harmless mischief and murderous focus at the flip of a switch. Boba is glad to finally have someone that is both competent and good company to call a comrade. 

He turns his attention back to Fennec, who is staring at him from her perch on the medbay bunk opposite of him. 

“I’m just surprised we were able to pull it off. Just the two of us...without dying.” She doesn’t sound very surprised, just contemplative. 

“I never doubted your skill.”

“We did well, Boba. I never doubted your leadership.” She nods with a genuine smile. Then it turns into something sly. “Although, would’ve gone a lot faster if you’d called Mando.” 

Boba sucks a breath in and stays quiet.

“You know he would’ve helped if you ask _一”_

“Not the point.” Boba frowns, picking at the dirt stuck on his gloves. “You know what he’s been up to. It wouldn’t have been a good time.” 

And Din has been very busy indeed.

It came up multiple times during their little conquests. Many of their new allies had been looking for any kind of small talk to ease the tension. The new _Mand’alor_ happened to be their go-to conversation topic, given Boba’s own background. 

Somehow, news of the Moff’s capture spread far and wide, even to the far reaches of the Outer Rim. Along with news of the one who had done the deed. 

A Mandalorian wearing pure beskar, armed from head to toe. 

One who wields both a spear and a rumored ancient weapon. 

Stolen by the Empire, and won back through a ferocious battle. 

Rumors of the possible revival of Mandalore under his rule.

The last one sounds a bit far-fetch to Boba. The rumors do not indicate Kryze as the hero of the story. That means Din might still have the Darksaber. As to why...the answer is beyond Boba. Something must’ve happened for Din to still hold his claim to the thing. Or maybe things are more complicated than simply tossing it to the Jawas as they had pondered before. 

“ _一_ hear your brain frying from here. You know you could’ve just called him for an update. Not like you two have each other’s comlinks or anything.” He blinks, barely catching on to Fennec’s words. He clasps his hands together, tapping his fingers against his knuckles.

“I think we were both a little too busy for that.” 

“Uh-huh.” Fennec raises an eyebrow, and Boba wants to be anywhere but here at the moment. 

She sighs, leaning back to pick up a datapad. “Well, you’re going to have to call him now anyway, don’t you?” She holds out the device to him. 

He takes it without speaking, staring at the chain of numbers in front of him.

Skywalker’s transmission code. 

It had always been a side note with each of his takeovers and meetings. After a surrender or a deal, he’d ask the leaders for Skywalker’s information. Most had been clueless or only offered dead leads. They all assumed that Boba’s looking for Skywalker to deal his vengeance, and didn’t want to incur the wrath of either when it came to blows. So all Boba had gotten was useless noise. Until finally, one source held some truth to it. They spent two days chasing it, and the long line of numbers became their prize.

It’s a thought that still pops into his mind every now and then. What he would do to Skywalker if he ever saw him again. What he’d do to Han Solo. Boba remembers how his hands had automatically gone for the weapons panel of the _Slave I_ when he had seen that X-wing back on the cruiser.

_“Mando left the baby in the Jedi’s care.”_

He loosens his death grip on the datapad with a deep exhale. 

Except this has become something more than him and his Skywalker problem. There is now a kid in the mix. A kid who is under Skywalker's tutelage and protection.

A kid who is also Din's _ad'ika_. 

_Fuck_ , when had he gotten so damn soft? 

“I’m calling him.” He announces, pulling out his comlink. The statement rings in the air, so shit, now he’s got to do it. 

“A miracle.” Fennec deadpans, throwing her hands up in the air. 

“ _Slana’pir_.” Boba scowls, staring at the datapad again. He hears shifting.

He looks back up to see Fennec stretching, leaning back against the bunk.

“That means ‘piss off’, by the way.” He adds helpfully. 

“Mm, good to know.” Fennec smiles sweetly, and Boba rubs at the bridge of his nose with a groan.

“ _Ka’ra_ , just go away.” He waves his arm in a shoo-ing motion. 

“Fine.” She rolls her eyes with a dramatic sigh, jumping to her feet with silent grace. “You’re not the only one missing Mando.” 

“I don’t mis _一_ ”

“Let him know I said hello. Don’t get too mushy.” She waves without turning around to look at the rude gesture he gives her. 

Boba shakes his head when she’s finally gone. He pulls up the familiar comm code, going still as he stares at it. The actions are a routine one; he’s done the same thing for many nights before. Always a small pressure away from pressing the call button, before he lifts his finger and places the comlink away, heading to sleep. 

This time, he presses down. 

He can hear his blood rushing through his ears in time with the static of a transmitting signal, and with his thudding heartbeat. 

There is a click, and Boba’s breath catches in his throat.

“...Boba?” Din’s smooth and modulated voice filters through the communicator. He sounds tired but also surprised. Maybe even a hint of something else that Boba dares not try to prematurely identify as happy. 

Boba lets out the breath in one go, his grip on the comlink shakes a bit before steadying. He allows a small smile to grace his lips.

“ _Su'cuy_ , Din.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beroya- Bounty Hunter  
> Gaderffii - Gaffi Stick  
> Be’jetii - Jedi’s (possessive form)  
> Vor entye - Thank you  
> Ad’ika- child  
> Ner vod - my brother/sister  
> Buy’ce(se) - Mandalorian helmet(s)  
> Ret'urcye mhi - Goodbye/Until we meet again  
> Mirshmure'cya - Keldabe Kiss/ Headbutt  
> Hut’unn(e) - Coward(s)  
> Shebs’palon - Asshole  
> Slana’pir- Piss off  
> Ka’ra - Stars  
> Su’cuy - Hello (informal/familiar)
> 
> Boba: Wow I wished I knew wtf Din was up to but he'd only want me to call him if it's about his son surely :/  
> Fennec:...You could just...call him and ask???  
> Boba: :/ ... >:/
> 
> Next Time: Boba@Luke and Han on Space Zoom call: I lived, bitches. Also, Boba sees Din interact with Grogu for the first time and gets feelings™.
> 
> Hope we're off to a good start :D
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](https://kkrazy256.tumblr.com/) if you want to chat or support me in other ways <3
> 
> Comments and kudos are always loved and appreciated. Thanks for reading <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What if…” He can hear Din choke on his words, voice soft and uncertain. “What if he doesn’t remember who I am?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your kudos and comments <3 One of these days, I’ll get my shit together enough and get to replying :’D but please know I appreciate each and every one of you for your support!
> 
> Chapter count has been updated from 4 to 7 total :) 
> 
> The more lore I read to try to make this story accurate and compliant with the timeline, the more I wish I didn’t know because canon is a fucking mess and I’m going to stop trying because fuck that noise. 
> 
> Enjoy :)

There are about a million things that Boba wants to say when he sees Din again. 

The call they had the night before hadn’t lasted very long. Boba had barely finished informing Din about what he obtained before Din was telling him coordinates for a meetup and that they would speak more then. His voice was soft, sounding even more tired than the day he returned to the ship without the child. 

“Is it a bad time?” Boba asked, feeling like he had somehow made a misstep by calling. But a part of him also felt slightly miffed at being shoved into a time slot to deal with later. An appointment, just to have an interaction with Din. 

He heard Din start to say something before cutting himself off. There’s some shuffling on the other end. Then, an alert blinked before Boba’s eyes.

A request to accept a holo transmission. 

Boba fumbled for a moment, looking around for where he had placed his _buy’ce_ before Fennec started tending his shoulder. He grabbed it from where it sat on top of the medical cabinet, fixing it on before connecting his holoprojector to the comlink. 

He accepted the request, watching the blue light flicker on with a bout of static until it formed a fuzzy image. 

Boba sucked in a breath, eyes tracing the blurry lines that made up the _beroya_. The holo-transmission only showed Din from waist up, armor glinting even under the blue hue. His cloak was missing, giving Boba a glimpse of either some skin or a fold in his flight suit, he wasn’t too sure. The helmeted head was angled straight at him, but Boba didn’t know what Din was really looking at. 

“ _Su’cuy_.” Din murmured after clearing his throat.

“ _Su’cuy_. Is this a bad time?” Boba repeated his earlier question neutrally; he wasn’t in the business of outstaying his welcome if that were the case. 

“No.” Din’s reply came quick, barely a pause after Boba’s words. His helmet tilted downwards, shoulders drooping before he started again, “I–”

Voices erupted in the background, and Din whipped his head around to listen to words that were not discernable to Boba over the static. 

“ _Elek elek, pare_!” Din’s voice stays even, but Boba can hear the edge to it. It’s the sound of someone being pulled in too many different directions, stretching their already thin state of mind even thinner. 

The background noise quieted and Din sighed loudly, turning back to Boba.

“No, it’s not a bad time.” Din shook his head, huffing out a quiet laugh that didn’t hold any humor. “If every moment was considered a bad time, I’d get five minutes to myself every day.” 

“Sounds like you already do.” Boba shot back, and Din let out a derisive snort that might’ve been agreement. 

“It’s been...a crazy month.” The _beroya_ said carefully and Boba hummed in agreement. Din took this as a cue to continue.

“So much has happened. I don’t...I don’t even know where to start. I…” Din paused and looked up from where he had probably been fidgeting with his hands. This might be the first time their eyes have met in over a month, Boba realized with a sharp inhale. 

“I should have called sooner.” Din finished his thought, looking away again. And that strange moment was over as quick as it came. 

“You’ve been very busy.” Boba shrugged, finding that he doesn’t hold it against Din. Even if those nights spent looking at the comlink came to mind immediately. “I should have found the Jedi’s information for you sooner.” 

“I couldn’t ask you to prioritize that for me.” Din cut in and leaned forward, making his holoimage larger. “You’ve also been very busy, from what I’ve heard.” He jerked his helmet towards Boba’s shoulder, “Are you alright?” 

Boba looked down, gloved hand reaching up to feather over the bacta patch. It had done its job well; the wound barely stung. 

“Nothing major, doesn’t even hurt anymore.” He let his hand fall back to his side, tracing at the raised skin of scars across his naked chest as he went. Din’s helmet moved, tracking his motions. 

“From what you’ve heard?” Boba rolled Din’s words around his head. The _beroya_ had always seemed to retain information on what was only important to his immediate situation, keeping himself away from the larger picture of the galaxy. Whether that was intentional or just how Din was as a person, it was something Boba had found ridiculous but admirable. 

Yet now, Din was apparently in the know of everything, including Boba’s own side project in the Outer Rim? 

“Yes.” Din said tightly, the edge in his voice returning. “I don’t have the...luxury of ‘living under a rock’ as Cara would say, anymore.” 

“You accepted the title.” Boba said quietly and Din didn't respond. The silence continued to build and Boba had to bite his lip underneath the _buy’ce_ to keep from voicing the questions piling up in his mind. He was glad, _so glad,_ the one on the seat isn’t a Kryze. But at the same time, this didn’t exactly feel right either. 

And Boba was utterly uncertain what other outcomes there could’ve been that would have both satisfied him and not left Din sounding so exhausted. 

“I…” Din finally spoke, helm angled downwards again as he struggled to explain himself, “I–”

“You don’t have to tell me yet.” Boba interrupted and he could practically hear the audible click of Din’s jaw clamping shut.

“No?” The obvious hope and relief in Din’s voice were enough to make Boba not regret holding off his curiosity a bit longer. It would be for the better anyway. He wanted to hear it directly from Din. Wanted to see every motion of body language the _beroya_ will show in person, something Boba could not do over a grainy holoimage. He wanted to understand firsthand. Then, he wanted to act accordingly. 

“We’ll have time when we meet up to speak to the Jedi and your _ad’ika_.” Boba grabbed the datapad, “those coordinates you sent, when will we meet?” 

“Would tomorrow be alright? During the planet’s sunset hours?” 

Boba nearly dropped the datapad, sputtering, “Tomorrow?” That was...a lot sooner than he had thought. He had expected Din to push it back until he had the time to wrap up whatever he’s currently involved in. After all, Boba’s call had been very sudden. And a physical meetup...Does this mean Din wants to have the conversation with Skywalker with _Boba_ at his side? Does he have any idea how ludicrous this all sounded?

  
  


“...I would like to speak to him...see him.” Din’s voice was barely above a whisper, and Boba faltered.

Right. His _ad’ika._ Nothing could be pushed back over the child. Boba understood that. Admired that.

“Tomorrow works. I can do that.” Boba plugged the coordinates into the datapad. It’s the same planet they had recruited Kryze and her pet from. He and Fennec were actually drifting not too far from it. 

Din shifted in his seat.

“Are you sure? I..I know it’s sudden. We chose this location because it’s on the way to our next destination. If it’s too far, we could find middle ground.” 

“It’s fine, we happen to be in the same system right now. A jump wouldn’t take more than a few hours.”

“...Okay.” 

“Okay.”

.

  
  


The silence lingered, and Boba didn’t want to end the call. 

.

And evidently, neither did Din. 

“You should get some rest. I can hear you yawning from under the _buy’ce_.” Boba eventually said, lips quirking upwards when Din automatically straightened.

“I am not..” He paused in between the sentence, “yawning.” 

Boba’s smile turned into a full-on sly grin, “You just did.”

He heard Din’s soft huff of laughter again, watching the _beroya_ shake his head and probably roll his eyes. 

“Chin up, _beroya_ . You’ll be speaking with your _ad_ about this time tomorrow.” Boba said fondly, letting his voice soften a bit, “It will be a good thing. Be well rested for it.” 

“... _Vor entye_.” 

“...There is nothing to thank me for. A father shouldn’t be without his son for too long.” Boba searched for Din’s gaze and held it when he caught it, “I know how much this means to you.” 

“...” Din nodded heavily. There were no more words he could say that Boba didn’t already understand. 

He could see that Din’s posture had lost some of the rigid tension that was apparent when the call had first started. The air between them felt lighter. 

“Good night, Din.” He whispered, tightening his grip on the comlink. Din leaned forward again, his image moving nearly close enough to ghost against Boba’s visor. 

“Good night, Boba.” 

/

“Nervous?” 

Fennec’s voice pulls Boba from his thoughts. He looks up at her from where he sits on the _Slave I_ ’s boarding ramp, watching the sunset. 

“No reason to be.” Boba shrugs his good shoulder as Fennec lowers herself onto the ramp beside him. 

“You’re about to attempt communications with Luke Skywalker.” Fennec can be blunt when she wishes, and the sentence hits Boba hard enough to make his breath hitch. “Wasn’t he the one…”

“Then you know I’d be more _pissed_ , than nervous.” He growls out, gloves creaking from the stress of his clenched fists. 

“Well, are you?” Fennec’s gaze stays level, and Boba has to turn his head away. 

“If it was six years ago, I might've been. Now..” He trails off without any plans to finish the thought out loud. 

Six years. 

Six fucking years, and it’s still a sore subject. 

The sudden drop in his stomach when he was launched into the air uncontrollably. The taste of sand trickling past the seals of his _buy’ce_ as he tumbled and tumbled and tumbledー 

Rumbling.

Growling _Teeth_.

_ChokingTightnessBurning_

Seconds becoming minutes becoming hours becoming days becoming _a B l u r_

And the voices.

The fucking _voices._

He shudders, forcing his eyes open. The fleeting memories dart away, crammed back into some space in the back of his head. He looks down at his hands, watching them shake with faint tremors. _Fuck_.

Sometimes, there’s still the knee jerk reaction of _kill them_ when Skywalker and Solo come to mind. To finish their bounties once and for all. 

Six years. 

His employers are long dead. 

Now...Boba works for no one but himself. 

Six years and the anger’s mostly turned into numbness, tinted with ‘what ifs’ and ‘should haves’. 

What if he had captured Skywalker back in Kenobi’s home? He should’ve been faster, he might’ve accomplished it if he had been. He should’ve been more aware of his surroundings. What if he hadn’t tunnel visioned on Skywalker and instead, noticed Solo’s bumbling behind him in time? 

He should’ve noticed it, he had been the best _beroya_ in the galaxy, _he should’ve noticed_. Then none of this would’ve happened. The Sarlacc, the burns, the scars, the nightmares.

.

He should’ve been _better._

.

His father would’ve been beー

**_Would he have?_ **

A large gust of wind literally blows the treacherous thought from his mind, and he glances up. The rangefinder on his _buy’ce_ swings widely in the sudden gale, forcing him to hold it in place. 

The ship landing in the cantina’s parking space takes up half the lot as its wings fold. Boba recognizes it as Kryze’s _Kom’rk_ from the last time they met. Din hadn’t bought a new ship after all.

Fennec whistles under her breath as she gets up, “right on time.” The sun disappears below the horizon, dark streaks of purple and navy bleeding into the fading orange shades. 

Boba stays silent and still. He doesn’t trust his legs enough to stand yet. 

He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. The Sarlacc and all the lingering emotions that came with it, always digging their little claws into any available crevice of his brain like pests that refuse to die. They are not something he wants to reexamine any time soon. The hand tremors abide, and Boba stands without a single wobble. 

“That’s a new face.” Fennec squints at the figures walking down the gangplank of the _Kom’rk_. Boba can see Din’s shining armor amongst the group of paint-dulled others. He is flanked by Kryze’s familiar silhouette on one side. Two more follow closely behind her in the same shade of blue. Apparently, she has more than one pet. This new one is broad and sturdy, likely used to having his size as a fighting advantage. 

“He wasn’t with them the last time we met.” Boba comments. 

Fennec hums thoughtfully, “was talking about the other one.” 

Boba tilts his head towards the one on Din’s other side. The golden helmet is ornate, it’s shine nearly rivals that of Din’s. The design vaguely reminds Boba of old, near-forgotten traditions. The other pieces of her armor are more muted, colored in darker shades of maroon and brown that complement the fur shawl over her shoulders. She walks with dignity and purpose, one arm hovering over the tool hanging from her belt. 

“She’s a blacksmith.” Boba says, unable to keep the awe out of his voice completely. Mandalorian blacksmiths are rare to find nowadays. Especially ones that know the flow of beskar intimately enough to craft armor and weapons without faults. 

“Hm.” Fennec’s voice is soft, face scrunched into an expression that Boba can’t decipher. 

Din says something to his party, and they head towards the cantina without him. He turns towards Boba. 

“And that’s my cue to get a drink.” Fennec smirks, clapping Boba on his sore shoulder.

“Don’t start anything,” Boba hisses through gritted teeth as the tender skin prickles underneath the armor and layer of robes, “I’m surprised we haven’t been barred entry yet after last time.” 

“So that’s why the bartender’s been giving us the stink eye through the window blinds since we got here.” Fennec snorts, “You had a bar brawl last time we came here, and you didn’t think to tell me?”

“Wasn’t a bar brawl.” Boba sneers. Kryze’s haughty words echo through his head, leaving him more and more irritated by the second. He hadn’t owed the princess an explanation for shit, not after how she regarded both him and Din as lesser than her so-called important heritage. Not after she went for his throat with the audacity to insult his father, legacy and Boba’s very existence in one single breath. She hadn’t even been the one to fight him in that scuffle for his honor; her pet had to step in for her. That alone had been telling enough for Boba to know _exactly_ what kind of person Kryze is. 

Seeing the Darksaber against Din’s hip as he comes closer helps soothe the anger simmering beneath Boba’s skin. At least Kryze is still barred from what she thinks she’s entitled to. The one thing she wants the most, out of her grasp yet always in her view. 

But then again, this also means she’s always right there besides the _Mand’alor_ , her mouth against his ears. What difference does the hip the Darksaber sits against make, if this is truly the case? The thought leaves a bad taste in Boba’s mouth, and he hopes the reality of the situation is different. 

“Relax, I’m capable of having manners. I won’t steal a punch that’s rightfully yours.” As usual, Fennec seems to catch on to his mood without pushing him where he doesn’t want to go. 

She touches his shoulder again, gentler this time. All lines of humor are replaced with genuine concern. “You’ll hold yourself together in front of Skywalker? For Mando and his child?” 

He stiffens under her hand. 

_Six years._

He breathes out deeply, letting his shoulders drop.

“I’ll do my best.” He says tightly. 

Her lips quirk upwards, “I know you will.” 

Din walks up the ramp, within earshot. 

“Mando.” Fennec gives Din a nod that he returns before she heads for the cantina. She spins on her feet, giving Boba a devious look that Din doesn’t see. Boba resists the urge to sigh. Unbelievable. 

He turns his full attention to Din. 

“ _Mand’alor_ .” He draws the word out, rolling his wrist with a flourish and tipping his head in a mock bow. That gets a soft laugh from the _beroya_.

“Not you too, don’t start.” Din shakes his head. He keeps his voice light, but Boba can hear the strain in it. 

“I won’t.” Boba promises, gesturing for Din to follow him back into the _Slave I._ “You’ll always be _beroya_ to me anyway.”

Din stumbles, righting himself immediately. Boba makes a note to get that loose panel on the ramp fixed eventually. 

“Thought that title belongs to you, _Boba Fett._ ” 

“Suits you more.” Boba closes the hatch after Din walks in. He hasn’t taken a bounty job as Boba Fett in years. “I have the navigation room set up for a holo-transmission. We can contact the _jetii_ from there.”

“I’m surprised you were able to get Luke Skywalker’s code.” Din walks past him towards the navigation room, already familiar with the layout of the ship. 

“I’m good at what I do.” Boba can’t help but preen a bit. “Fennec was renowned for her tracking skills. We made quick work of it together.” 

They reach the navigation room before Boba realizes. He turns to stare at Din. 

“You know it’s Skywalker. You know who he is.” 

“I’ve only heard stories. Most of them sounded like tall tales to impress children or to share at the bar counter. I didn’t even know what he looked like.” Din brushes his hands over the communications board before looking up at Boba. 

“Cara told me on the way to deliver the Moff and Doctor to the New Republic. The things he did on board that cruiser…” Din turns his attention back to the controls, “they don’t seem like myths anymore.” 

Boba swallows loudly, “Then you know he was the poster-boy of the Rebellion.” It’s his turn to fidget with the buttons on the board. “Why didn’t you just ask the New Republic for his contact information? Small reward for those two bounties, no? You would’ve gotten it much quicker too.” 

_Why did you ask me?_

“I’m a Mandalorian, he’s a Jedi.” Din shakes his head. “He’s also one of their heroes. They would’ve asked why I needed that information. The fewer people that know about the kid and what he can do...the better.”

“..Fair point.” Boba concedes, moving to grab the datapad off the table. He understands Din’s concerns; there’s no telling how the New Republic would’ve reacted to the idea of an impressionable Force-sensitive child within reach. Boba had been Din’s other mean, efficient and discreet. 

That’s all.

Though...Boba frowns. What’s to say Skywalker hadn’t already contacted his allies? Or what if the Moff or Doctor had felt the need to snitch? The information they both held had been Din’s biggest bargaining chip. Boba wonders what deals were made between the new _Mand’alor_ and the New Republic in the past month. He sneaks a glance up at Din. The _beroya_ stands rigid and tense, his hands in a death grip around the table’s edge. 

Except Boba knows he won’t be getting any details on anything until Din’s mind is set at ease. With a few taps, Skywalker’s transmission code is inputted and ready to be used. 

“Everything should be working,” Boba passes the control to Din, who takes it almost robotically, “unless he’s sequestered himself onto some undiscovered planet, we should be able to reach him.” 

Din nods.

Boba waits.

Din doesn’t press the call button. He stares down at the controls as if they would suddenly grow teeth and attack if he even breathed wrong. 

“... _beroya?_ ” Boba tries tentatively.

“What if…” He can hear Din choke on his words, voice soft and uncertain. “What if he doesn’t remember who I am? I can’tー” He moves away from the communicator, crossing his arms. His armor creaks in protest at the awkward positioning but Din continues to pull his arms closer around his own body. 

“He’s...he’s young. Children that age don’t remember much, do they?” He continues before Boba can answer, speaking in a hurried, borderline panicked pace, “A month. It’s been a month, what if he’s already...” He makes a small noise in the back of his throat that has Boba flinching at how _raw_ it sounded.

“...Forgotten me?” The last words are spoken too softly for the helmet’s modulator to catch clearly, and Boba can only guess that’s what Din had said. 

“Din, I…” Boba lifts an arm, letting it hover between them. He wants to do several different things with it at that moment. Like grabbing the _beroya_ by the shoulder and shaking him for even thinking his worth is so easily discarded. Least of all, by his own _ad_. He also wants to pull him in by the wrist until they are chest to chest, so Boba could whisper those exact thoughts right up to Din’s helmeted face. Most of all, he just wants to figure out what to do for Din to stop looking so fucking heartbroken. 

His fingers tap against one of Din’s crossed arms by the elbow. He gently tugs until Din loosens his grip on himself, angling his body to face Boba. 

“He hasn’t forgotten you.” He declares firmly. Din tilts his head, and Boba continues before he gets a chance to rebuff, “Or do you really think so little of him?” 

Din wrenches himself from Boba’s hold, taking a step back and snarling, “Of course not. He means _everything_ to me.” 

“And we all know it.” Boba replies levelly, watching Din’s indignant anger falter. “I don’t think there’s a single person who has met you, that doesn’t know it.” 

“...What are you trying to say.” Din’s voice is flat, exhausted. 

“What I’m trying to say is,” It is Boba’s turn to cross his arms now, “if we can all tell how much you care for the child, then don’t you think he can too? Especially since he’s been with you for what? Over a year?” 

“Yes.” Din gets the word out, sounding strangled. He’s moved back to gripping the table’s edges, _buy’ce_ tilted to stare down at anything that isn’t Boba at the moment. 

“Don’t underestimate children.” Boba reaches forward again, covering one of Din’s hands with his own. He waits until he sees the small shift in the angle of Din’s helmet to know their eyes are meeting. 

“They remember and appreciate a lot more than you give them credit for.” 

Boba thinks of large hands ruffling his wavy curls. He thinks of a broad smile, usually reserved for only him. He thinks of leaning back in the co-pilot seat, looking out into a sea of stars that stretched onto the endless horizon of the universe. All the unexplored cosmos on the other side of the glass and Boba had never felt more content being inside the cockpit of the _Slave I,_ with his entire universe sitting right beside him in the pilot’s seat. 

“The child means everything to you.” Boba repeats Din’s words, squeezing his hand. “And you mean everything to the child too. Don’t downplay your worth to him.” 

He feels Din’s stuttered breath more than he hears it; the hand under his shakes. Then, it slowly shifts, turning over until the palm is pressed against Boba’s and their fingers are intertwined. Din squeezes back. 

“Okay,” Din exhales, “okay.” 

He hits the call button with his free hand. 

The transmission rings unanswered for more than ten seconds. Din’s fingers tap nervously against the knuckles of Boba’s glove, and Boba takes to running his thumb over Din’s absentmindedly as they wait. 

“...What ifー” 

Just as Din starts to speak, the call erupts into a myriad of sounds. There is no holo being transmitted, and all they hear is shuffling and static.

“Grogu stOPー” A muffled curse follows the shout, along with more shuffling of boots squishing against the ground, getting further and further away from the source of the call. It sounds soft; chirps of wild insects echo in the background faintly. A wet planet then, Boba deduces. 

A flurry of droid language, the noisy whirring of treads against the ground, and the sound of Skywalker’s voice growing closer and louder again. 

“What? Artoo, I said, tell them to leave a message, not answer! A bit busy herーGrogu NOー spit that out right nowー!” 

The droid titters at the Jedi, and to Boba’s surprise, Din lets out a laugh along with it. 

The other end of the call goes quiet. Then, a holo image appears at the same time that theirs is accepted. 

_Kill him._

Physically seeing Skywalker’s face brings those unwanted emotions full blast back to the front of Boba’s mind, and he has to clench his free hand into a tight fist to keep a growl in. He feels Din’s brief glance towards him before his attention turns back to the Jedi. 

“It’s you!” Skywalker doesn’t sound anything other than pleasantly surprised, his eyes wide as he stares at Din, “but how did you find this cod-” His gaze finally flickers over to Boba.

The change is so abrupt that Boba almost lets out a laugh of his own. 

Skywalker immediately tenses up, eyes widening even more and jaw going slack for a brief moment before clamping shut. The kid isn’t exactly a kid anymore; the roundness in those cheeks have sharpened, the lines of age starting to show even through the fuzzy holo quality. 

“Boba...Fett? You’re, you’re alive?” 

“That’s right, Skywalker.” He bares his teeth, “Give Solo my _best_ regards.” There’s something about seeing the way the Jedi visibly swallow that makes Boba’s heart soar. 

“So it really was you that I saw, back there.” Skywalker looks uncertain as he glances between Din and Boba. “Did you hire him to find me? Are you..are you two working together?” 

This is when he sees Skywalker’s hand reaching for the droid, and Boba’s stomach drops as coldness spreads over him. It would be so easy. So easy for Skywalker to just end the call right now and purge his transmission code if he thought this entire situation had been an elaborate scheme to capture him. So easy for him to just disappear with Din’s _ad’ika_ into the vast unknowns of the galaxy. 

He hears Din gasp under his breath as he comes to the same conclusion, and Boba’s mind goes blank. 

He can’t let that happen. No grudge is worth settling at such a steep price. 

But how? How does he de-escalate the situation? By apologizing? To fucking Skywalker? He grimaces at the thought. What does Boba have to apologize for? That he had taken a bounty because it was his fucking job? Apologize when he had been the one tossed to the Sarlacc like a baited bantha? When he was the one subjected to years of unending torture that still cling to him like a plague to this very day? 

He _can’t_. 

Skywalker speaks before Boba can find his solution. He looks towards the ground, “Artoo, end thー” 

“Grogu?” Din cuts him off, quiet voice wavering between the two syllables of the child’s name. His grip on Boba has gradually tightened to the point where his fingers are throbbing. 

A noise breaks the silence between the three men and the droid. 

A curious babble at the sound of his name being spoken by a familiar voice. 

Skywalker looks down towards his feet, and the droid chirps before adjusting its holoprojector. 

Din’s breath hitches when the holo image flickers to show Skywalker’s full body.

And the child standing by his feet. 

He’s even smaller than Boba had expected, eyes big and expressive. All this time, he had been basing his perception on Fennec’s description and the small speck he had seen in the distance on the mountain peak at Tython. The child is part of an alien species that Boba can’t identify, yet he’s somewhat familiar in a way that sits uneasily with him. 

“Grogu.” Din whispers again, his hand loosening and slipping away from Boba’s. He catches Skywalker staring at their previously joined hands with an unreadable expression. 

Din leans forward, both hands trembling as he reaches for Grogu’s tiny holoimage. The holo ripples when his fingertips touch the tip of the kid’s long ears, making his fingers twitch back.

“Hey, kid. Remember me?” The crack in his voice is enough to make Boba turn away, swallowing hard. 

The child babbles some more, reaching forward for Din before pulling back to look at his small hands. 

That makes Din give a shaky chuckle, “it’s a holo, you’ve seen those before.” 

Something seems to click with Grogu. His eyes grow impossibly wider, and he starts to gesticulate excitedly. Nonsensical words trickle from his little mouth, and he lifts a hand to show them the frog in his grasp. Boba thinks he sees a squirming lump in the pocket of the robe he’s wearing. 

Din just nods, murmuring soft words of acknowledgment as the child continues to recount his adventures. Din’s voice grows shakier and shakier, and Boba can see the tremors on the line of his shoulders. 

Boba looks back at Skywalker, who is staring down at Grogu with a soft smile on his lips. The earlier suspicion and anxiety seemed to have mellowed out, which makes Boba feel a wave of relief at least. 

Skywalker stiffens, looking back up at Boba when he finally senses his gaze. 

They regard each other for a moment, neither of them moving. 

Boba jerks his head, pointing off-screen. 

Skywalker frowns, eyes darting back to the father-son duo for a moment. Then, he nods. 

The Jedi walks out of the holoprojector’s line of sight, leaving the droid to zoom into a larger image of Grogu. 

Well, would you look at that. 

Boba huffs an amused laugh, reaching to clasp the _beroya_ on the shoulder. Din reaches up without looking away from his _ad_ , holding Boba’s hand in his own and giving it a squeeze before letting go. 

He hears the soft hiss of Din’s _buy’ce_ being removed as he turns around to leave the navigation room. The other man’s unmodulated voice is soft and filled with unbridled endearment, following Boba all the way to the cockpit.

He sits down heavily in his seat, removing his own helmet and setting it against the controls. His eyes sting as he rubs at them.

Leaning back, Boba lets out a deep breath. The star-filled skies beyond the ship canopy fill his vision, glittering and spinning at a steady pace. 

He lets his eyes drift shut, his mind wandering. If he tries hard enough, he can imagine the sound of hearty laughter in a voice like his own. He can feel a hand on his head, carding through the hair he no longer has. 

A pang of longing fills his chest, his lips quirking into something that isn't quite a smile. He turns his head, eyes tracing over the leather of the pilot's seat across from him. 

Boba finds that there is no other place he’d rather be in this very moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buy’ce(se) - Mandalorian helmet(s)  
> Beroya- Bounty Hunter  
> Su’cuy - Hello (informal/familiar)  
> Elek - Yes  
> Pare - Wait  
> Ad’ika- child/little one  
> Ad- son/daughter  
> Vor entye - Thank you  
> Kom’rk - A type of Mandalorian fight/transport starship, mostly used by Death Watch. The literal meaning is gauntlet  
> Mand’alor - Mandalorian Sole Ruler  
> Jetii - Jedi 
> 
> /
> 
> Luke during weekly family time: Oh Han, Boba Fett said hi btw.  
> Han, spitting out his drink and looking around: Boba Fett? Boba Fett where?! Didn’t he die??  
> Luke: Yeah no, I’m actually tutoring his Mandalorian partner(?)’s son right now. Hmm idk what they are to each other but they’re definitely something. He’s a lot nicer when they’re together :)  
> Han: ...No fucking shot the Boba Fucking Fett settled down with a whole family before I did, how old is his kid?  
> Luke: Fifty One :)  
> Han: HELLO????
> 
> /
> 
> Din: *starts knowing things*  
> Boba and the fandom: Wait, that’s illegal
> 
> /
> 
> I spent a lot more time on Boba introspection than I initially intended. Given that most of this fic will be written in his POV, I guess it was inevitable. I’m still worried I’m not doing his character justice because I’m new to writing him and Star Wars in general. It’s a learning experience that is constantly evolving, but I hope I’m not failing awfully :’) 
> 
> I was going to include the next chapter’s content in this one, but there was already so much happening in this chapter that I felt a break was needed. But no worries, I hope to have it up by next week. 
> 
> Next time: Boba and Din discuss the call, and talk about being Mand’alor. 
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kkrazy256) if you want to chat or support me in other ways <3
> 
> Comments and Kudos are appreciated. I love hearing your thoughts <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And how was it? Being there?” Boba leans forward in his seat.
> 
> Din tilts his head silently, taking a moment to consider. 
> 
> “It was like being feared and belittled at the same time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for the amazing support on this fic. I appreciate each and every one of you for reading and sticking around <3 
> 
> Long dialogue-heavy chapter because they will be catching each other up on what’s happened in the past month. But no worries, things will move along nicely soon :) 
> 
> In my honest opinion, I really don’t see Din becoming Mand’alor because he hates all this protagonist bullshit and is perfectly fine just vibing. He was already working so hard just to keep two people alive and fed every day. A whole planet? No thanks. If he were to become Mand’alor, I’d imagine it would take lots and lots of extenuating circumstances and convincing. Even then, he’d be like ‘ughhhhh I hate it here’. This is my take on what those circumstances are. 
> 
> Still don’t like that Din removed his helmet in front of Luke and everyone else. So have more helmet deliberation, because the ‘wow he’s so much freer without this stuffy Creed business!!’ route is :/ 
> 
> Once again, playing fast and loose with canon/lore because I know shit about fuck :^) 
> 
> Enjoy!

The planet’s two moons are high in the dark sky by the time Boba stretches from his seat with a muted groan. 

He catches Din’s parting words as he enters the hallway that leads to the navigation room. Boba stops when he hears Din remove his helmet again. The _beroya_ must’ve just spoken with Skywalker before asking to say goodbye to his son. 

“Now behave for the Jedi, alright? Remember what we said about manners? One frog a day. _One_. And only if they don’t belong to someone else.” 

Boba smiles when he hears the indignant croon coming from the other end of the holo.

“Grogu…” The warning tone coming from Din’s soft voice turns the smile into a grin, making Boba duck his chin with a shake of his head. 

The noise he gets in return sounds like one of a noncommittal agreement that holds no actual promises. Boba loves the kid already. 

“Good…” There’s a pause. When Din speaks again, he sounds choked up. His voice hoarse and tender, “I’ll see you soon, _ad’ika_. I promise. I just...need a little more time to sort through things.” 

A soft coo. 

_Do you have to go right now?_

Boba hears Din give a sharp inhale before he speaks some more, his voice sounding even softer than before.

_No...not right now_

Boba leans against the wall, toying with a loose thread on his robe to keep his thoughts in the present while Din continues whispering to the kid. If his hands tremble with the motion, well, no one else is present to comment on it. 

The sound of the holoprojector finally powering down makes Boba stop fiddling. With a hard yank, the thread comes loose, floating out of his frozen fingers and onto the ground. He straightens, a vambrace lightly scraping against the ship’s walls when he pushes away from it. 

A rush of movement comes from inside the navigation room. A sharp clang of metal on metal as Din scrambles to grab for his _buy’ce_.

Boba goes still. 

“...Are you decent?” He calls out carefully. 

A series of muted rhythmic thuds. Gloved fingers tips against a beskar helmet. 

“...You’ve seen me without it before.” Din doesn’t exactly sound accusing, just...resigned to the truth. 

Dark curls, red-rimmed eyes, barely dried tracks of tears. His hands on Din’s cheeks, forehead against forehead, lips on liーthe memories flicker through Boba’s mind briefly, and he swallows. 

“With your permission...back then” He responds with the same tone, listening to Din’s soft hum. He chews his bottom lip. 

“If...something’s changed, I won’t look. Never without your permission.” 

Din is quiet.

Then, the hiss of a _buy’ce_ clicking into place. 

“Okay.” Din announces, and Boba walks into the room. 

The _beroya_ hadn’t moved much from his original position since Boba had last left. He looks at Boba with a considering tilt to his helm that Boba can’t decipher. He wants to ask about Skywalker and Grogu. He wants to ask about the helmet, and what that night back at his quarters had meant. 

Instead, Boba points behind him.

“Care for a drink?” 

“..I don’t think I’m ready to be subjected to social drinking with the rest of them.” Din replies warily, and Boba shakes his head.

“Not with them. With me.”

“Oh.”

“Think we still have some stuff left in the kitchen.” 

Din pauses, visor gleaming with a rainbow of colors coming off the little buttons of the communications board. 

He nods, and Boba relaxes a bit. 

“Don’t think we have much _gal_ left. Caf might be the only thing we’ve got.” He muses when they make it to the kitchen. Most of his stash had been offered gifts from his new allies. Instead of accepting, Fennec had asked to see the wine cellars so she could take her pick instead. Never could be too careful about poison. Boba had never been much of a drinker. A clear head is necessary for a good hunt. And there are plenty of other ways to forget without impairment. 

“I don’t drink often. Caf is fine.” Evidently, Din is the same. 

Even then, there isn’t much choice in terms of caf. Boba rummages through the small cabinet with a frown. He and Fennec had _really_ made a dent in their supplies the past month. Well, after they take Tatooine, they’ll have all the time in the galaxy to restock. 

“Only got the rocket fuel variety left. No sugar or milk. Good enough for you?” He pulls out the necessary materials, hands moving fluidly at the familiar routine of preparing two hot cups. 

“That’s the only type I drink.” Din shrugs from where he’s sitting at the table. He has removed the beskar spear and jet pack from his back, allowing them to lay on the floor. 

“Not a fan of fancy, _beroya_?” Boba scoffs, turning around with the caf. He slides Din his cup, handing him a straw. 

“I’m a fan of anything that can keep me awake.” Din deadpans, taking the straw and stirring his drink. Boba does the same with his own cup, releasing the seals on his _buy’ce_ to take a sip with his own straw.

_Fuck,_ that’s gross. Boba grimaces before sitting back. Din doesn’t even flinch as he dips his head down for a drink. 

He really takes what he can get, huh. Boba muses to himself, listening to Din’s soft sigh of content, gloved hands wrapping around the warm cup. 

“Having a kid running about really isn’t easy, I take it?” 

He hears Din let out a groan, shoulders dropping in a near-dramatic fashion. 

“I feed him regularly. I bolt down the doors to our food cabinet. I close off our sleeping cot before I put him to bed. And somehow, _somehow,_ I still wake up and find him neck deep in our rations.” 

“Womp rat.” Boba snickers and Din makes a noise of agreement. 

“I might have to do the same to our cabinets soon.” Boba jerks his head at the alcohol case, transparent plastic showcasing the near-empty bottles. “Fennec goes through that stuff like it’s water.” 

“Bet she doesn’t vomit it all back up even after she’s been told she’s had more than she can handle.” Din grumbles, clearly remembering moments where Grogu’s done exactly that. 

“No, she just insists her aim is even sharper.” 

“Well, is it?” Din leans forward, clearly curious. 

“Here’s a tip: Never bet against Fennec in a game of darts. _Especially_ , after she’s had a drink or ten.” Boba mutters. 

Din lets out a laugh. It’s clear, it’s genuine. It’s something Boba wishes he can hear more often. 

They nurse their drinks in comfortable silence. Though Boba spends most of it sneaking glances at Din rather than sip at the cup of paint-thinner in his hands. Din sits like someone who hasn’t had a chance to sit down in ages, forearms leaning heavily against the table and back slightly arched forward. The heat of the drink forms puffs of fog against the edges of his helmet. Boba can hear his soft sigh with each sip he takes from his straw, fingers drumming against the cup in a random pattern. It really isn’t anything special at all, yet Din seems to be appreciating this brief respite the best he can. 

He’s about halfway through his caf when Din speaks again, tone cautious.

“When you said you knew Skywalker…” He trails off without pointing out the obvious animosity Boba had displayed and the alarm Skywalker had shown. 

Boba shifts in his seat, resisting the urge to shake his leg. Something unpleasant settles in his gut at the reminder of how close they had been to losing contact with Skywalker. To losing Grogu. All because he hadn’t been able to keep it together. He probably should’ve stayed clear of the call in general. 

“I’m...sorry.” The apology to Din comes a bit easier than the earlier thought of apologizing to Skywalker, “I should’ve told you we weren’t on good terms.” An understatement, but not false. He won’t apologize for holding a grudge either. 

“Did he wrong you? The _jetii?_ ” The worry that leaks into Din’s words is apparent, re-evaluating the trust he had put into the one he’s left his son with. 

Boba swallows down the broken laugh that’s bubbling in his throat like acid. When had he ever _not_ been wronged by a fucking Jedi? 

“He was a failed bounty, and a nuisance in the capture of another one.” He says instead. 

“Han Solo.” Din hazards a guess, and just the name is enough to make Boba’s skin crawl.

“And what do you know of Solo?” He growls, tracing a circle on the table. 

“Heard enough complaints around guild circles and saw enough bounties on his head to hope I’d run into him one day.” Din tilts his head, “Used to keep a list of all the supplies I’d get for my _aliit_ with that kind of credit.” 

That makes Boba laugh, “Easy there, I had dibs...but you’re right, it would’ve been good money if I had brought them both in.” 

“...They were Empire bounties.” Din says after a moment, connecting the dots. 

Boba sits up straighter, “Yes.” His voice doesn’t betray any emotion, and he forces himself not to hold any expectations. 

“I did my share of Empire jobs back then. When they expanded to the Outer Rim.” Din hums thoughtfully, swirling his cup. “They were the only ones that could pay reliably, and creds were hard to come by.” He offers the words as justification–a peace offering of understanding. Boba feels some tension bleed from his shoulders, heartbeat slowing back down. He isn’t being judged. 

And that is just the reality for people in their line of work. Living bounty by bounty, only being able to see as far ahead as the next paycheck. Their ships need maintenance, weapons need repairs. Rations and medical supply costs would rack up sneakily. 

Jabba and Vader’s employment had been a game-changer for his reputation and budget. Even if it had been occasionally unsavory, the payment had at least made the name of his clients easier to swallow at the time. A job was a job. 

A life like this, where every move is made by yourself, for yourself. Everything in the interest of just staying fed and alive...People like Kryze would never respect or even make an attempt to understand it. 

“It’s crazy how we never ran into each other.” Boba points out after a moment. He wonders how things would’ve turned out if they had. Would they have regarded each other as a competitive threat? As _vode_ that should stick together against those who wanted to discredit and sabotage them, just because they were Mandalorian? 

Maybe, they would’ve worked together. As actual work partners or reluctant ones that just kept running into one another, Boba doesn't have a clue. The possibilities are endless; Boba’s heart thuds erratically, feeling something akin to mourning for some unattainable alternate past. 

“Would we have worked together? Or hated each other?” Din seems to read his mind, sounding amused. Boba cracks a tentative smile, ducking his head. 

“Who knows.” He shrugs a shoulder, throwing one arm over his chair as he sits back, “Maybe we would’ve set aside our differences long enough to shut Solo up.”

“Rumor has it that he’s really good at making people do that. We would’ve been rich.”

Their laughs complement each other naturally, like two long-lost chords combining to form a familiar melody. Sitting here on the _Slave I_ , sharing caf and quips with each other...Boba wants to think he’s glad things turned out the way they did. Just a little. 

He feels the humor in the atmosphere shift to something more somber when Din clears his throat and leans slightly closer.

“But do you…” Din lowers his head, fumbling with the question, “As someone who at least knows Skywalker...is Grogu..is he going to be alright...with him?” 

‘ _No_ ’ is immediately on the tip of Boba’s tongue, and he has to bite his lip to keep it in. He wants to warn Din. About all the harm Jedi can do ( _has done - to Boba and his family, to_ **_Jango_ ** _and_ **_his_ ** _)_ while still wielding their moral superiority over the rest of them. Always believing themselves better, given the right to serve justice as they please, going as far as to think they _are_ justice. When was the last time Boba had met a trustworthy user of the Force? 

He thinks of Skywalker from back then. A young man barely out of his teenage years, limbs still awkwardly gangly yet strong from years of weathering through Tatooine’s unforgiving climate. Large blue eyes that spoke of naivety, framed by wispy blonde hair. The fear in them when Boba had tracked him all the way to that broken-down house. The determination in his still-wavering voice as he fought for his life blindly and escaped with it. 

His chilling glare, accented by the piercing green of his lightsaber when he brought it down against Boba’s weapon, melting it to slag. The worry etched across his face, attention on Solo and the Wookiee even when Boba had been right there in front of him. 

He thinks of the Skywalker he saw a mere hour ago. Now older, more tired, and worn by the war he helped bring to an end. The fear that still sparked in his eyes when he saw Boba looming in the background. But also the protectiveness in them, the split second where he had looked off the screen to check on something. To check on Din’s _ad’ika_. With the same worried and defensive expression that Boba had seen back on Tatooine that cursed day.

He swallows down the ‘no’. 

“Skywalker won’t harm your child.” He finds Din’s gaze through the visor, “And he won’t let anyone else try either.” 

The relief in Din’s posture is palpable as he nods, letting out a shaky breath. 

“He said as much. But it’s...it’s reassuring to hear that from you too.” 

“Y-you spoke with him over the comm just now, no?” Boba only stutters at the start, his brain still reeling from Din’s words. _Reassuring_ . “What do _you_ make of him? Of all of this?” 

Din sits up, brightening “He said the kid’s a natural with the magic stuff.” 

“With the ‘magic stuff’, really now?” Boba grins, leaning forward to rest his helmeted head against a hand. 

“He said that Grogu’s had prior training in the fundamentals and that he would mostly be helping him revisit and hone them.” The pride is apparent in Din’s voice as he says it all in one quick breath. Boba is also begrudgingly impressed. To think a child, still unable to utter a word of Basic, could be on the level of Jedi Padawan. 

“Then, his training will go quickly. Did Skywalker give you any ideas of what he will be teaching him?”

Din goes back to stirring his caf, “They’ve been traveling a lot the past month. Skywalker said he’s been in search of Jedi texts and temples for the guidance of old Force users that have passed on.” He says the words awkwardly as if repeating them verbatim without truly understanding the intricacies. Boba smiles again; he doesn’t think Din does. 

He runs Din’s words through his head. He supposes that makes sense. When he had fought Skywalker, the boy hadn’t been helpless. But his skill with the Force had been nowhere even near Vader’s prowess. With the Jedi purge and the Force becoming the subject of myths rather than warnings, there probably hadn’t been many teachers. At least Skywalker isn’t planning to go into this blindly, even if he’s basically flying by the seat of his pants.

“What were they up to during the call?” 

“Apparently, Skywalker had trained under someone of the same species as the kid.” Din leans close, voice in disbelief. Small galaxy, huh. Once again, the familiarity of the green ears and small stature pokes at some deep memories in Boba’s mind. 

“They went back to this teacher’s former home to see if he had left anything behind.” 

“And how’s that going?” 

“Swamplands mostly, he said. Lots of frogs and other small creatures.” Din’s tone slips into something more sly, “Kid thinks it’s a free-for-all.” 

Boba remembers Skywalker’s flustered yells, and snorts, “Bet he’s having a grand time trying to keep mealtime reasonable.”

“Doubtful.” Din shakes his head, clearly amused that someone else is being subjected to the little terror’s ravenous hunger. 

“How long did he say this training will take?” 

Din pauses, “Skywalker plans to settle down somewhere permanently after studying a few more Jedi locations. They’ll start their training then. He thinks Grogu would likely have a solid foundation within the year. He…” Din looks down at his hands, “He said after that, the kid’s free to come and go as he pleases.” 

“Just like that?” Boba raises an eyebrow. It seems rare for a Jedi to be so lax with a student. Though by every account so far, Skywalker’s been a bundle of contradictions and surprises. 

“Further training would apparently involve more advanced techniques relating to combat and..” 

The image of the little rascal holding a lightsaber almost makes Boba choke on his caf. 

“And...that would require him to have the motor skills to run around longer than a minute without asking to get picked up.” Boba finishes the thought, and Din nods. 

“Within the year, huh..” Boba whistles, “you’ll be seeing your _ad’ika_ a lot sooner than expected.” 

“Yeah.” 

Boba frowns, studying Din’s subdued state, “You don’t sound pleased. Isn’t this what you wanted?” 

Din tilts his now-empty cup, “It’s just...talking to the Jedi made me think about some things.” 

“..Such as?” 

“Such as, what I would’ve done if he hadn’t shown up when he did. And if Bo-Katan had just taken the damn sword. If it was just me and the kid again.” 

Boba tilts his head, not entirely following the other man’s chain of thought. 

“I have no ship, no home or creds to get anything. Not even food.” Din says bitterly, “If the kid had come back with me after we got him back, I would’ve had _nothing_ for him.” 

_You. He would have you. And that would’ve been enough_. 

The words are lodged in Boba’s throat, and he can’t get them out.

And Din wouldn’t have been homeless. The _Slave I_ isn’t a particularly large ship, but it could easily accommodate another person and child without trouble. They could’ve always used another skilled hunter in their takeover of Tatooine and Hutt Space. There is no reality where Boba would’ve kicked either of them to the curb and called things between them even. Didn’t... didn’t Din know that? 

Boba stays in stunned silence, and Din continues.

“We’ve been on the run for a year now. I couldn’t always get jobs. There were repairs, hyperlane fees, rations, I could barely-” He cuts himself off, sighing. “I’ve fixed that hole in his robe at least three times. He didn't even have toys.” He sounds ashamed, but Boba doesn’t hold a drop of judgment in him.

“You’re doing your best to provide for him, no one can fault you for that.”

“What I do is _dangerous_..” Din stresses, “Back then, I couldn’t just drop him off somewhere with every job. Wherever I went, he had to come along too. But now with Skywalker...maybe he doesn’t have to.” 

“...What are you trying to say?” 

“....That maybe it’s still for the best...if he stays with the Jedi.” 

_Ka’ra_ , Boba wants to reach across the table and knock their helmets together in a full-on _kov’nyn_. 

“...My _buir_ used to bring me along on some of his hunts.” Boba offers carefully. Every time Jango had offered, he would feel unbridled giddiness at the idea of sitting in the co-pilot chair. Each trip meant a chance to listen to his father make offhand comments about the most random things. A chance for Jango to give him tips, ranging from how to use a jammed blaster to take out an enemy in 8 different ways to mapping out the best seats in a cantina for a vantage point that yields maximum information. 

“It wasn’t always safe.” Boba admits, remembering the heavy blow against the back of his neck and the sharpness of blades against his throat, “Or easy.” Sweat gathering on his small palms against the grip of his blaster, fingers tingling from the heat of metal after firing. 

“But, I liked it.” Boba whispers, “Just being with him.”

“That’s...I’m glad you got to spend time with him.” Din’s voice is thick with emotion when he finally responds. “But you..you’re missing the point.” He sits back, gesturing with clear frustration. 

“I don’t understand.” Boba crosses his arms with a frown.

“You were a child.” 

“I wasn’t helpless.” Boba scowls, clenching his fists. 

“And neither is Grogu. _Ka’ra_ knows he’s not.” Din sighs sadly, shaking his head, “He’s powerful and so much more than that. But he’s still...he’s still a _kid_ . Of course, I want to have him with me, but if he gets hurt... _that’s on me._ ” 

Boba opens his mouth, but no words grace his lips. He...he had never thought about it that way. 

Every mission with Jango usually ended with him grinning up at his _buir_ with a puffed chest and demanding to know if he had done well– if he had made Jango proud. Sometimes it would be him sitting at the medbay of the _Slave I_ , breathing heavily through his nose to keep hot tears in as Jango bandaged his arm or ran his hands through his hair looking for bumps. 

And Jango would always give him a lopsided smile that Boba now realizes as a strained one. Sometimes, he’d chide Boba, going over what he could’ve done differently to avoid an injury. But he never, ever, voiced anger or placed blame on Boba for getting hurt in the first place. 

Instead, Boba remembers his _buir_ pulling him close and tight each time, lips against the crown of his head.

_“Ni ceta, Boba. You did great, of course I’m proud.”_

“...I still think he belongs back at your side.” Boba reiterates his point, a tad gentler but with the same insistency. He sees Din’s apprehension now. It’s a constant fight of wanting to be with his son, but also being worried for his safety. 

Maybe the child would be safer with Skywalker. Maybe Boba’s just making far-fetched personal comparisons like some sentimental fool. Maybe, he’s just being selfish. He has no idea.

He lifts his hand, reaching across the table. Din watches his movement without shifting away. His arm hovers between the two of them for a moment before he gets the nerve to feather his fingers against Din’s wrist. 

“You’re a good parent. He’s lucky to have you.” 

Din stares down at his hand. He slowly rotates his wrist, inviting Boba to get a firmer hold than a light touch.

“I’ll have to sort through a lot of things before I feel...ready to get Grogu back.” 

“You’ll have a whole year, _beroya_. You’ll get back on your feet.” Boba squeezes his hand once, “What do you have in mind?” 

“A new ship.” Din says immediately, albeit a bit nervously, “We’re also looking for other Coverts right now. We’re very scattered across the galaxy. If things work out, I’ll at least have more safe places for the kid when I get him back.” 

Right, there is still the glaring fact that the person currently before Boba is the _Mand’alor_. 

“Reuniting the _Mando’ade_ now, are we?” Boba hums, rubbing a thumb over the small patch of skin peeking from Din’s glove. He can faintly feel the steady thudding of a pulse through his own glove. 

“More of a formality. A lot has changed.” Din shrugs his other arm, “No one is obligated to follow me if they don’t find me worthy of leading.” He doesn’t sound like he’d be particularly bothered if others didn’t recognize him as the legitimate heir either. 

“Even if the _Resol’nare_ says otherwise?” Boba arches an eyebrow.

“We’re tired, Boba.” 

Boba’s hand twitches, his name still throwing him off guard each time Din says it. 

“Tired as a people. Hunted and in hiding. If the one holding out a hand outside the pit is going to lead them right back into a slaughter...they won’t follow...no matter what the _Resol’nare_ says.” 

It’s a poetic line; one that has Boba speechless for several beats. Evidently, a month of politics had done something for Din’s verbal eloquence. 

“Is that what you’re planning to do? Lead them all back to a slaughter?” Boba is intrigued, heart quickening at the macabre thought.

“I hope not.” Din makes a distressed noise, flexing his hand, “But...I don’t know what I’m doing.” He admits it freely, the exhaustion blatant in his sigh and in the way his shoulders drop low.

“You took the title.” Boba finally broaches the subject again, unable to think of a better time than this moment. 

“ _Took_ is a bit strong.” Din gives a derisive snort, helmeted head tilting to follow Boba’s thumb closely. 

“What happened then? After you left on Kryze’s ship last month?” 

“Cara gave us a list of Republic bases where we could collect the bounty on Gideon and the Doctor.” Din plucks the straw from his empty cup, rotating it between his fingers.

“Bo-Katan took us to Chandrila instead.” 

Boba sucks in a breath, eyes widening. 

“The New Republic capital.” If they had gone to some no-named base, dropped the bounties off for a reward and left, it would’ve been a simple done deal. Rumors might have spread within the sector, but it would’ve easily died off before going far. By the time anyone high up got their hands on the Moff and Doctor for information, they would’ve been long gone and unreachable. Din could’ve passed the Darksaber off without fanfare after that. Chandrila is the furthest thing from discreet.

So _why_ would Kryze–

“She didn’t want to hand them over as wanted Republic enemies. She wanted to negotiate with them as political prisoners of Mandalore.” 

She’s cunning, Boba will give her that at least. Making such a bold move did its job in putting Mandalore back into the politics whispered at the table as something other than a history lesson. 

“That’s a daring decision for her to make, considering that she refused the Saber in the first place.” Boba scoffs. 

“She wants me as her puppet while she rules in everything but name.” Din agrees, tone sharp. He’s not so oblivious to let that go unnoticed. 

“A calculated move, on her part.” Boba comments, watching Din nod.

“She knows I would’ve left the moment we turned them both in. And dispatching me in the back of an alley afterward wouldn’t make her story a shining one either. She can’t take the Darksaber unless we fight fairly, apparently.” 

“And she wouldn’t accept a duel?” 

Din shakes his head with an exasperated sigh, “She knows how much I don’t want it. She thinks I’ll throw the match if it isn’t one to the death...And this isn’t something worth betting my life over, especially when I have other things to…”

“...To live for.” Boba finishes quietly, remembering soft babbles and the smile in Din’s voice with each response. 

“...Yes…” 

“You would’ve won anyway.” Boba teases lightly, tightening his grip when Din hums.

“Who knows. It’s not something I want to test.” 

“But she still doesn’t get the throne.” 

“No, and by bringing us in front of the Republic, she’s presented me as the legitimate _Mand’alor_ .” Din shifts his arm, and Boba lets go accordingly. The _beroya_ pulls his arms back, clasping his hands together. “I...don’t think I realized at that time, what she was trying to do. Chandrila was...distracting. ” 

“Never been before?” Boba ventures a guess. 

“Never been to the Galactic Core.” Din grouses as if remembering something unpleasant. “It’s...loud. Busy...rich.” 

Boba grimaces in solidarity. Planets like Chandrila and Coruscant sparkle with a sort of garish artificiality, inhabited by people that mirrored the same effect. Excess is paraded around like trophies, uncomfortably obvious and in Boba’s face whenever he visited. He’s met many clients in their penthouses, standing awkwardly still in an attempt not to soil plush carpets with the dirt of his armor. Everything is also painfully loud. There’s always some sort of commotion accompanied by constant chatter. It grates against Boba’s nerves, leaving him overwhelmed and wanting to retreat back into the silence of his ship. 

A large population means it’s easier for people to disappear without notice. Yet, for someone wearing beskar, it’s anything but easy to blend in. He’d get eyes watching him every step he walked. Snobbish sniffs at the thought of a Mandalorian _savage_ prowling amongst them in the shops and streets. Hungry gazes of those who have heard rumors and sought a danger they’ve never experienced firsthand. 

Boba’s never enjoyed jobs on the Core Worlds. He can’t imagine Din enjoyed his first visit there either. From his reaction, it doesn’t sound like much has changed since the Empire’s reign. 

“There was a lot going on and I just...went with it. At first, I thought she just wanted a bigger reward to split between the rest of us. We demanded an audience with the Galactic Senate and we got it. It was...overwhelming.” 

“And by granting that audience for your purpose, the Republic recognized Mandalore’s sovereignty. _Your_ title.” _Clever little princess,_ Boba sneers. 

“It was too late for me to just walk away at that point. But I was also out of my depth.” Din drums his fingers on the table. Boba feels a pang of sympathy; that certainly didn’t sound like an enviable position to be in.

“She essentially backed you into a corner, with her as your council.” To use her quick tongue to get things flowing her way, even if the Darksaber wasn’t hers. 

“A puppet.” Din nods, but he doesn’t sound completely defeated. Boba is curious if he had acted differently than how she wanted. 

“How were negotiations?” 

Din huffs out a breath of annoyance, “Long-winded, unnecessary. We were in Chandrila for at least two weeks.” 

“ _Shabuir_.” 

“You tell me.” 

“What was the hold-up?” 

“Gideon is ex-ISB with a lot of information that the Republic wants. They want him on a public trial for his crimes under the Empire’s name.” Din clenches his fist, “But he had been the Commander at the head of the Purge. Every order he made, all the damages he did, the lives he took, and the _aftermath_...that can’t...it can’t be brushed aside.” 

Extraditions are always a pain in the ass. Boba supposes it’s been slightly easier for the New Republic to pass their judgment under one Senate. But the sudden addition of an outside power seems to have thrown them off guard.

“...Do you want him to pay?” 

“...He hurt the child and had us on the run for an entire year. It’s...hard not to be _angry_.” The conflict is clear in Din’s voice, as if he’s keeping himself brief instead of saying all that he wanted to say. “But realistically, keeping him prisoner would be difficult. We don’t have any permanent place to stay. And holding two prisoners on the same ship indefinitely...Negotiations weren’t easy.” 

Boba frowns. Even with all the ambition in the galaxy, they couldn’t have changed the fact that the Mandalorian ruling court consisted of only Din and Kryze during that meeting. Their numbers are still too scattered to be a credible threat. Even with a good bluff, that’s not something they could’ve kept quiet for long. Experienced politicians would’ve caught on quickly. 

“And how was it? Being there?” Boba leans forward in his seat.

Din tilts his head silently, taking a moment to consider. 

“It was like being feared and belittled at the same time.”

Boba hums at that, barking out an ugly kind of laugh that betrays no humor. He can’t think of any other phrase as succinct and perfect as the one Din just used. The Republic, old and new, will always see Mandalore that way, it seems. Barbaric and in need of controlling. Praising their prowess to their face, while muttering about monsters behind their backs. 

“So many of them flinched if we moved too suddenly, but they still talked down to us when it was their turn.”

“...They offered.” Din continues softly, drawing Boba’s attention again, “Offered to give Mandalore a seat at their new Senate.” 

“Of course they fucking did.” Boba snarls out, slamming a shaking fist down on the table. His drink sloshes dangerously, but neither of them moves to steady the cups. Boba couldn’t help the ire washing over him, dark and heavy enough to drown in. 

He shouldn’t even be surprised that the Republic had made the offer the moment they saw the chance. The smallest crack in the armor and they were scrambling to dig their claws in. They will try again and again to mold Mandalore into their docile liking under the guise of benevolent guidance. And look where that had gotten them all.

A dead planet, filled with nothing but shattered glass and ghosts.

_Never again._

“And? Your answer?” He barks out harshly without meaning to, even if it’s not aimed at Din directly. 

“Of course not. Mandalore does not need the Republic’s help, now or ever.” Din responds with similar anger, and it brings calm to Boba’s storm. 

“Good.” Is the only thing he can think to say. 

“You know Bo-Katan reacted like that too when they brought it up. Never thought I’d see so many offended and terrified faces at once.” Din adds on teasingly after a moment. 

“Today is full of surprises, isn’t it?” Boba says dryly, his lips quirking upwards. So there are some things he and Kryze can agree on at least. He wonders if it’s because she’d seen enough of the damage her sister caused to feel so adamant. Though, he highly doubts her vision of Mandalore will be anything close to what Boba or Din imagines. 

“Well, what was decided in the end?” 

“Most of them were ignorant, talking out of their _shebs_. But the Chancellor...she knew we had more at stake than they did.” 

A leader without a planet or a united army. Alone with a handful of bodyguards in an unfamiliar city. A few choice words and unvoiced threats had probably been enough to make Din and Kryze quietly reconsider their position. 

“Bo-Katan had only wanted to trap me into the position.” Din looks down at his gloves, picking at a piece of fraying leather. “She had already done that by putting this all into motion, she didn’t care about what happened to the Moff and Doctor at that point. She was happy to disengage.” 

“That’s it?” Boba can’t help but feel cheated on Din’s behalf. 

“You think I’d just gone through hell to catch these two, and only get a new job out of it?” Din tilts his helmet cheekily, “We signed a treaty.” 

“Treaty on his first two weeks of being _Mand’alor_ , look at you.” Boba drawls out, grinning when Din ducks his head with a soft hiss of “stop it.” 

“We would give up Moff Gideon and Doctor Pershing under three conditions.” 

Din lifts one finger.

“Any public mention of the trial will include that Mandalore had a hand in their capture. Bo-Katan wanted this one first and foremost.” 

He raises a second finger.

“Any information revealed by Gideon and Pershing that pertains to Mandalore and _Mando’ade_ will be yielded to us, as it rightfully belongs to us.” 

With Gideon at the helm of the ISB operations on the Purge, the amount of data and archives he had access to must’ve been immense. It’s a good deal. Boba thinks of Doctor Pershing. The nervous man who couldn’t look anyone in the eye, sitting timidly in the chair they forced him into for interrogation. He thinks of the familiar patch of lines sewn into the right sleeve of the man’s uniform. Pershing was young, but all clone engineers could only reliably get their knowledge and education from one source. He wonders if he could ask Din to pass along any information related to Kamino, without having to explain why. 

Din holds up the last finger, wiggling all three. 

“A monetary reward for fulfilling their bounties.” He shrugs, “I am a _beroya_ , after all.” 

Boba laughs, pressing his helmeted forehead against his forearms, “You’re really something else...And Kryze was fine with it?” 

“She didn’t like that I went off-script. But if she’s going to push this onto me...then I want to at least do some things _my_ way. _I won’t be a puppet._ ” He says the last part with a hard edge in his voice. 

Boba thinks back to the blacksmith who stood beside Din, opposite of Kryze with just as much authority.

“The _goran_ that came with you today. Was she part of your plan?” 

“She was my _alor_ and _goran_ back in Nevarro. She is wise and trusted by the Covert in more than just forging. I went to find her after we left Chandrila.” Din gives the praise easily, comfortable, and confident in his judgment of her character. 

“I…” Din pauses, sounding sheepish, “I know that I don’t exactly have the..most knowledge on all this history and politics. And that’s something that Bo-Katan is relying on when she gives her advice.” 

“Likely.” 

“My _alor_ taught me many things, and...I trust her judgment and advice. I thought it would be good to have someone that shares my Creed to get another perspective.” 

To have someone that _understands_. Boba finds his respect for Din growing even more. 

“That’s a good call. And Kryze?” 

“She wasn’t ‘happy’, but if she does have a problem with it...well, I’m ready to step down any day she wants.” 

Boba scoffs, “Would she accept a victory like that?” 

Din seems to take a second to seriously consider Boba’s comment. “I think...she really does want what is best for Mandalore...and to be accepted.” 

“She won’t get any of that if she keeps looking down on her few allies.” Boba growls out and Din nods in concession. 

“I think she’s hoping to follow my rule and offer her council and protection for now. That way she could show herself to be dedicated and worthy in the eyes of other _Mando’ade_ . So maybe one day I can hand her the title, and she’ll _finally_ take it. Without the need to battle for it.” 

Boba holds little hope for that, but he doesn’t voice it out loud. Change can be unpredictable in many ways, he of all people knows that intimately well. Maybe Kryze would be capable of it, but Boba isn’t about to start holding his breath anytime soon. 

“Don’t speak too soon, maybe you’ll find yourself enjoying this role more than you initially thought.” He warns Din with a smile.

The _beroya_ shakes his head with a tired groan, “All I really want is to make sure the kid’s going to be okay. I’m not cut out for _this_. She and her team have appointed themselves as my bodyguards.” 

“A guard detail?” Boba cringes. Comrades who knew when to trust you to handle things alone and when to step in to help? Invaluable. Minions crowding underfoot, all with some twisted white knight fantasy? Now _that_ just sounds annoying. 

“I’ve never had so many people ask me where I was headed when I was just trying to use the ‘fresher.” He whispers, sounding mortified. 

“Sounds exhausting.” 

“She takes it so seriously to the point that I think it’s on purpose.” Din grouses, picking up his empty cup, tilting it left and right. “Koska likes to follow her lead on that. Axe seems to just find it funny.” 

“Koska? That her angry little Tooka that looked ready to claw my throat out?” 

“She’s got more talent than you give her credit for.” Din gently chides, “She’s been giving me pointers on how to use the jetpack in offensive maneuvers.” 

“Party tricks.” Boba rolls his eyes, still cursing the healed bruise on the small of his back from when she had thrown him through the table. 

“Useful ones.” He can imagine the smile on Din’s lips when he ducks his head forward.

“I have moves that would put those to shame.”

“I’m sure.” Din says warmly, looking back down at the cup, “Maybe..you could give me some pointers too, sometime?” 

Boba’s mind goes blank. 

“Uh, yeah I could do that.” He manages to croak out before reaching for his own cup, slurping the rest of his lukewarm caf through the straw. 

He swallows, setting the empty cup down, “Next time we meet, it will be somewhere more spacious. We’ll have enough space to spar then.” 

“You’re...not getting a new ship, are you?” Din asks slowly, confused. 

Boba shakes his head with a laugh, “Not a new ship. A new house is a better way to put it.” 

Din hums thoughtfully, “You’re still not done with your conquests.” 

“Soon. I’ll tell you more then.” Boba simply says, standing. He grabs his cup, stretching out his hand for Din to hand him his. 

By the time he brings two new cups of hot caf back to the table, Din’s thoughts are onto something else. He has his chin cradled against one palm, the edges of the _buy’ce_ digging into his glove. The other hand is twisting at his straw. 

Boba retakes his seat and slides the cup over, nodding when Din gives a soft whispered, ‘thank you’. 

The _beroya_ sticks his straw back into the cup, but hesitates for a moment before glancing back up. He pushes the cup away, clearing his throat. 

“I...” He starts his sentence over several times, struggling to find the right words to put into the right sentences. Boba tilts his head in silent encouragement, anticipation building in his chest. 

“I had taken my _buy’ce_ off on Morak.” He finally manages to say. 

So that’s what Din had meant about something happening in Morak. This was what had haunted his thoughts the entire journey to the Moff’s light cruiser. 

“You said you did what you had to do.” 

“I also took it off back on the cruiser. For Grogu. In front of...of everyone.” Din confesses it in one breath, stumbling towards the end. This makes Boba pause.

“Skywalker too?” 

“Skywalker too.” Din lowers his head, posture deflating after finally blurting out what he had been holding in since the day of the rescue. 

“I don’t know why I did it then, I should’ve...I wasn’t thinking. The kid was, he was leaving and…” He rolls the straw between two fingers, “I had to let him see my face before he left. It felt right.”

“Nothing wrong with that. He’s your _ad’ika_.” Boba says softly. 

“But after..” Din stirs his caf, and Boba watches the way his sleeve rides up with each turn of his wrist. 

“After...you took off the helmet for me.” Boba completes the thought, and Din’s hand stops. 

“Yes, I did.” 

“Do you...regret it?” Boba holds his breath as Din deliberates. 

“No it was...it was okay. It was...nice.” 

Boba breathes again, no longer sinking, “What changed?” 

“...I guess I thought it meant I had to remove it all the time now. I had done it in front of so many others already, I didn’t...” Din taps a finger against the table, “What difference does having it on make now? The meaning..the meaning is lost...right?” 

“That’s not true...but is that why you allowed me to see?” The thought of Din removing his helmet because he had been under some impression that he was obliged to do so now, doesn’t sit well with Boba.

“...At that moment, I just didn’t want to be alone in my own head.” Din whispers; the hands around the cup shake with faint tremors. 

Boba remembers the utter anguish on Din’s face. The unspoken yet desperate plea for someone to see and understand what he had just gone through and lost. Boba had been the one to see and offer that solace. If there’s anything that Boba understands, it’s _loss_. 

He opens his mouth, words failing him. He wants to tell Din there’s nothing wrong with that, but he knows it’s not that simple for Din. Boba feels like he should apologize for something. 

“But after we left to meet with the New Republic, and after that too...I never felt the _need_ to remove my _buy’ce.”_ Din continues, letting the unvoiced thoughts stew in Boba’s mind. “For anyone. I didn’t _want_ to either.”

And Boba understands that, somewhat. He’s had his own hangups about his _buy’ce_ , his _face,_ for decades. Days where he couldn’t remove it at all. Where he couldn’t bear to see that face in the mirror without feeling a gut-wrenching impulse to put his fist through glass and yell until his voice was ruined and _different_. 

Back then, it had been worse. The thought that removing it would lead to a spark of recognition in other people’s eyes. The question of ‘have I seen you somewhere before?’ being thrown at him. Worse, being seen by another and being called ‘brother’, tearing him between a soft ‘yes’ and a snarled ‘ _no_ ’. 

It had been a constant itching he couldn’t relieve. His _buy’ce_ rarely came off back then. 

Now, it’s a bit easier. He’d gone years without his helmet, which had been missing along with the rest of his armor when he woke up spitting out sand and in tears at the pain. The burns on his face had been too raw and tender to be covered for the longest time, leaving him exposed to all who came across him. Then, he had been forced to watch Cobb Vanth defile his armor with his ignorance from the sidelines, unable to do anything. 

And by now, he’s probably one of the few, if not the only one, still alive with this face and this voice. 

Easier in some ways. More difficult in many others. 

But still, it’s not entirely the same for Din. 

He looks up to see the _beroya_ staring down at his drink, still stirring and lost in his own thoughts. It gives Boba a chance to continue getting lost in his own. 

Most of what Boba knew about Mandalorian culture had been taught to him by his _buir_. The history, the language, the symbols, and stories, Jango always found time to give Boba these lessons in between and during hunts. 

_You’re the only one who can keep these stories alive for me, Boba. No one else knows the truth._

Boba’s relation to the Mandalorians revolves around his _buir_ and the legacy that has been left behind for him. Decades of Jango’s suffering and sacrifice, all the details lost with slaughtered _vode_ or twisted by enemies who didn’t know the lengths that Jango had gone through to protect and survive. The only one that knows the truth is Boba. 

_“He had been willing to die rather than take it off for me to treat his wound.”_

Boba remembers Dune’s uneasy look when they had struck up a conversation after Morak, grabbing rations at the same time.

_“I don’t...I don’t get it. He had a kid and he was just...going to die. I just don’t...” She shook her head, picking at the ration bar wrapper, “but something’s changed now. I don’t know if I should say that’s for the better...but at least he’s alive for it.”_

For Din, it’s about his Creed. One that Boba admittedly doesn’t know much about, but he knows it’s important to Din’s very identity. 

Securing a future for foundlings, wearing and honoring the importance of _beskar'gam_ ーboth are essential to Mandalorian life. By prioritizing Grogu, everything Din’s ever known has been shifted to adjust for the new focus in his life. 

It’s a change that is worth it and leaves him with no regrets, Din has said so before. Because through the chaos of it all, he had gotten a _son_. There’s nothing that can replace that. But the aftermath, the pieces left behind to sort through, that is what has left Din reeling and conflicted. And Boba doesn’t know how he could even begin to alleviate that. Or whether it’s even in his place to or not. 

“I’m sorry,” Din finally says and it makes Boba tense up, “It’s stupid for me to be so hung up on this.” 

“Why would it be stupid?” Boba blinks, frowning. “This is your lifestyle; there is no shame in struggling when things have changed.” And between his Creed, the child, and being thrust into the Mandalorian throne, there is a lot of change to process. Who could fault him for being understandably shaken? 

Din sits back, pushing his cup away.

“I tried to explain it to Bo-Katan, but she…” He clasps his hands together with a soft sigh, “She didn’t _understand_. She and her team remove their helmets freely, they don’t see why I...She thinks I’m just being..well, a zealot.” He spits the word out with clear distaste. 

“I’m not like her.” Boba growls out, teeth clenched. Of course Kryze wouldn’t understand and make it a clear point to not try to either. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. 

Din considers him for a long moment before speaking, voice thoughtful, “No. No, you’re not.” 

“And your _goran_. You said she shares your Creed. What did she think?” 

“She told me that we do what we must, to protect and survive. And that...I’ve done everything a _Mando’ad_ would do.” 

“And sometimes, that’s all you can do.” Boba says gently.

“She didn’t say it personally, but I think she’s also coming to terms with it. With seeing different forms of the Creed. I just...wish it was easier.” 

“Din…” Boba holds his hand out, and the _beroya_ reaches for it without further prompting. 

“You don’t owe it to anyone to show your face if you’re not ready for that. Your Creed is yours to define.”

“..Yeah.”

“Things have changed, and you shouldn’t stop yourself from taking the time needed to process it. And if you decide that you’ll never be ready...well, that’s alright too. You don’t have to be ready.” 

Because the Creed isn't something that is supposed to be gradually loosened and shed off as a final step of a long process. If Din decides that taking off his _buy'ce_ isn't something that he's comfortable with ever...If that’s the case, Boba finds that he wouldn’t mind either way. 

The hand in his tightens once.

“Thank you.” 

Boba smiles, pulling back. 

They reach for their drinks in tandem, sipping in peaceful quiet. 

The HUD in his helmet blinks with an alert.

_Cantina’s closing. ETA 5 min. You two better have clothes on - F_

_Shabuir,_ Boba resists the urge to say the curse out loud. He wouldn’t even know how to explain Fennec’s message to Din if he asked. 

_Fuck off - B_

_Going that well? Sorry for interrupting - F_

He clicks the communicator off, trying to ignore the indignant rush of warmth to his face. He looks up to see Din putting away his own commlink. 

“I should probably head back.” Din stands, bending down to pick up the spear and jetpack. 

He looks to Boba before dipping his head sheepishly, “I’ve kept you long enough.” 

“You’ve never been a bother.” Boba protests a bit too quickly, “It was good to catch up.” 

“Felt like I was doing all the catching up.” Din’s voice is light as they walk towards the cargo hold side by side, “Never been the one talking too much before. Not really sure it’s my thing.” He tilts his head towards Boba’s direction, “Next time, I want to hear about what you’ve been up to.” 

Boba hits the hatch control with more force than he intended, nearly missing the button. Next time. Whether that meant in person or over a transmission, he doesn’t even care. Din wants to speak again, and it won’t be because he needed Boba for a job. He simply wants to hear about Boba. _Next time_. 

“Next time.” He repeats with a hum, watching the hatch open. “I’ll have my story ready by then. The finale’s just about to begin.” 

Just saying it brings a rush of adrenaline coursing through Boba’s veins. Tatooine has been a distant goal ever since he was given this second chance at life. It had always loomed over the horizons; but now, it’s finally within reach. The excitement and nerves of a pre-hunt is both nostalgic and exhilarating. 

He grins under his helmet, tilting his head, “Can’t spoil the ending for you just yet, _beroya._ ” 

Din’s soft huff of laughter reaches his ears, and Boba knows he understands.

“Well then, from one _beroya_ to another…” Din takes a hesitant step forward, closing the small gap between them.

Boba reaches up to grasp Din by the crook of his arm when the other man holds onto him by the bicep, squeezing once. Their _buy’cese_ meet at the forehead gently. A low duet of modulated breathing sings through the air, carried off by the evening wind. 

“ _K’oyacyi_ , have a good hunt.” Din whispers before pulling back, releasing his grip.

“...Yeah.” Boba manages to murmur, his own arm falling back to his side. 

Then, he just...watches. The dual moons shine brightly, glinting off Din’s silver armor in multiple directions as he walks down the ramp. His cape flutters, lifting just enough for Boba to see the hilt of the Darksaber swinging against his hip. 

There is something regal about the whole picture presented before him. Somehow, it seems both out of place and fitting at the same time. 

“Your helmet filtering out the flies you’re catching right now?” 

He inhales sharply, jerking his head to the side. Fennec stares at him with her version of an innocent smile. It makes him shiver instead. 

“Had fun?” He says instead of demanding when she had gotten all the way to the ship without him noticing. That would mean admitting he had been paying attention to..other things. 

Her cheeks look flushed, even though her eyes are intently focused and sharp as usual. She smirks, lifting her arm to show him a pouch, “Plenty.” The bag jiggles with the sound of currency when she shakes her hand. 

“Darts?” He smiles.

“Darts.” She confirms happily, hitting the button for the hatch, “You should’ve seen their faces. Woves was about to go all-in before Bo-Katan stopped him.” She sighs disappointedly, tossing the pouch up and down, catching it with easy coordination. 

“Woves?” Boba mutters, heading for the cockpit.

“The big new one. Can take a joke and has a good physique. Think he’d probably make a good close-combat spar partner. Can’t hold his drink for shit though.” 

“Hah.” Boba snorts, sliding into the pilot’s chair, “Learn anything?”

Fennec shakes her head, “Think they really just wanted to take the evening off. Bo-Katan mentioned something about you giving all Mandalorians a bad name?” 

“What else is new? She really ought to get more creative.” Boba shrugs, discarding the brief second of tightness in his chest. Her words mean nothing.

“Everything went well with Skywalker then?” Fennec flicks a few buttons, gauging their fuel supply. 

“Surprisingly.” He doesn’t elaborate beyond that. “The child seems to be doing well too.” He adds on after a pause.

“That’s good to hear. I’m sure Mando was glad to see him.” Fennec hums before turning towards Boba, eyes curious.

“What?” He scowls, fiddling with the navigation controls. The coordinates for Tatooine are already punched in, ship ready at a moment’s notice. 

“Don’t keep me in suspense, how’d it go with you and Mando?” She arches an eyebrow and Boba groans.

“We talked.”

“That’s it?” She sounds disappointed, and it makes Boba feel vaguely defensive.

“Yes.”

“About?” 

“Why do you need to know?” 

“This is the first time I’ve ever seen you like this.” Fennec narrows her eyes suspiciously, “It’s not like you to hesitate when it comes to what you want.” 

He swallows, no response ready. This is...different. With bounties and fights, he’d always have backups amongst backups. When one option disappeared, he’d have another way out. Everything was planned out with clear logic and common sense. And it's always worked out before ( _until it hadn’t_ ). But this...this thing with Din. Whatever it is. Boba can’t figure out what he wants. What Din wants. The pathways aren’t clear. He doesn’t know which steps lead him closer to the answer he seeks, and which steps lead him to that familiar bottomless pit of gnashing teeth with no way out. _Shab_ , what is wrong with him? 

“I’m not hesitating.” His grip on the control wheel tightens, “I just...want to take my time, and be here for the moments.” Because he’s grateful for even having the chance to be here to experience life again. To be able to open his eyes and squint at the sun or blink at the stars, instead of staring into pitch growling darkness. It’s not something he wants to lose again anytime soon.

“Well,” Fennec’s voice draws him out of that spiral, forcing him to blink and look back at her. She’s waving her comlink at him, a warm smile on her lips. 

“I got what I wanted.” She shares her good news, and Boba’s interest is piqued. 

“The blacksmith.” 

Din’s former _alor_ and current council. 

“Transmission code and permission to call.” Fennec says smugly. 

“Congratulations.” Boba claps his hands together with a drawl, “How did you manage that? Did you even get her name?”

“Why do you need to know?” She parrots back, “Nosy, aren’t we?” 

“Me? _I’m_ nosy?” He gives her his most unimpressed helmet glare, and she just laughs. He shakes his head, her mirth infecting him with a small smile of his own. There’d be more time to ask her about it later. 

“If you’re done making fun of me, think you’re sober enough for a fight?” He pulls up the holomap, Tatooine rotating before them. 

“Always.” Fennec stretches her limbs, groaning at the satisfactory cracking of bones. She looks past his visor and directly into his eyes, nodding, “This is it.” 

Boba breathes out deeply, the excitement from before returning ten folds. He feels Fennec’s hand squeezing his shoulder as he starts the _Slave I’_ s engines. 

“Tatooine will be ours.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beroya- Bounty Hunter  
> Ad’ika- child  
> Buy’ce(se) - Mandalorian helmet(s)  
> Gal- Alcohol  
> Buir- Parent  
> Jetii - Jedi  
> Aliit - Family  
> Vod(e) - Brother(s)/Sister(s)  
> Ka’ra - Stars  
> Kov’nyn - Literal head-butt, and not the kiss kind xd  
> Ni ceta - Sorry, groveling apology  
> Mando’ad(e) - Mandalorian(s), Children of Mandalore  
> Resol'nare - Six Tenets of Mandalorian Life  
> Shabuir - Motherfucker  
> Shebs - ass  
> Beskar'gam - Mandalorian armor  
> Goran - Blacksmith/Metalworker  
> Alor- Leader  
> Shab - Fuck  
> K'oyacyi - Lit. meaning - Stay Alive. Come back safely. Other meanings include: ‘cheers’ and ‘hang in there’
> 
> This fic can be summarized as wow, Boba and Din sure talk a lot about everything but their obvious love for each other.
> 
> Boba and Din both *thinking*: You’re so awesome. You just understand and get me in ways that few people do. You’re also very cool and badass. Wow, I think I might be in love.  
> Also Boba and Din both *thinking*: But what if he just thinks of me as a very close vod :T  
> Meanwhile, Fennec the functional lesbian: I’m gonna get me a girlfriend >:)
> 
> /
> 
> Fennec: So u two fuk yet lol  
> Boba: *blue-screening at the thought of doing anything of the sort before properly courting* what the fuck is two?
> 
> /
> 
> Boba really out here giving Din advice on how to process trauma, and then proceeds to not follow his own advice, huh. Honk honk Boba. 
> 
> At this stage, I feel like I’ll be keeping this story mostly in Boba’s POV. But would people be interested in an eventual mini-series of certain scenes and missing scenes in Din’s POV maybe?? There are only so many thoughts that Din likes to share, even if Boba seems to have a good grasp of things. Admittedly, Din doesn’t know very much about Boba though, does he? That’s going to change eventually :) 
> 
> Next time: Boba gets a new palace and Din shows up for the housewarming party with his Royal Guard™. 
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](https://kkrazy256.tumblr.com/) if you want to chat or support me in other ways <3
> 
> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are appreciated, hearing your thoughts make me super happy and keep me motivated <3


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